Chapter Ten (and epilogue)
�Rajani, that�s why we have so many days of practice. Chill out! If they get it wrong, then you correct them. If they get it wrong again, correct them again.� I smiled at Rajani, who nodded and went back to standing at attention. For these last three days of school, we were supposed to do nothing but graduation practice. I�m in a graduating class of 84, so we get to do the whole shebang-a-bang over and over again, with nothing but lunch to spice things up, though we do get out earlier. �One more thing, Raj?�
�What�s up?�
�Love your shirt.� Rajani had a custom-made shirt from some website somewhere that said �Gettin� Crunk in Chennai� on it. Y�all might know Chennai by its old name, Madras, but it�s a city in India.
��Ppreciate it, CUH!� Rajani bellowed, laughing.
During graduation practice, the Dream Team was separated. Chris, whose last name is Andres, is second in line behind Sylvia Anderson. Ugh. Sylvia. Why does she have to share a name with Anderson Cooper? I mean, really. She�s tainting the good name just by existing. I stood there, humming a song to myself, waiting for the practice to start again.
We already knew where we were supposed to sit, though I�m sure some people would need more repetition to remember their seat, and we knew what to do when we got up to the stage. Walk briskly to the principal, receive diploma, shake hands, scuttle off to the provided picture area (the photo corral), and then sit your ass back down. I knew the secrets of the event�there�s always some jackass that comes to graduation naked under their robes, though they�re usually caught and get in a ton of trouble, you don�t wear your robes to practice, blah blah blah�and I could pretty much do this whole thing in my sleep already. So, why do we need three half-days to practice on?
�Idiots. That�s why,� Boss explained to me, artfully blowing smoke into the wind. �Be lucky you�re in such a small class. The ceremony won�t take long. I was part of a 300-kid graduating class.� He paused to count his comrades, I guess. �More like 320. And some of them? Mouth-breathing idiots. We had to practice our graduation for three full days for some of them to finally get it.�
�We just have to do half days,� I added with a shrug. Boss and I were sitting on the beach, just looking out towards the waves, his cigarette smoke (remember, he started smoking again after he got hurt) blowing everywhere but in my face. Everything was so peaceful, but suddenly I was so curious� �What�s that taste like?� I queried. Boss chuckled.
�Shit,� he replied.
�Really?� My eyes widened.
�Yes, the tobacco companies really use manure in their products instead of tobacco leaves. What do you think, silly?� Boss asked me, grinning. �What, do you want to try it?�
�I can�t, I�m edge,� I responded.
�The gods of edge won�t notice if you smoke but don�t inhale,� Boss told me. �Besides, I�ll bet you that you�ll hate it and you�ll never try it again.� He handed me the butt end of the stick and I warily touched it with my lips, inhaling just slightly. Then, I broke out in a coughing fit and dropped the damn thing into the sand, extinguishing its flame. I hacked and coughed and stuck out my tongue, trying to get that terrible taste off of me.
�God damn!� I shouted after I was finished hacking up my lungs. �That was the worst thing I�ve ever tasted, and I�ve had escargot before!�
�I knew you wouldn�t like it,� Boss said, laughing.
�Sorry I accidentally extinguished it,� I said apologetically.
�It�s okay. I�ve been thinking of quitting, anyway.�
�You should. Just don�t get addicted to those gum things, like Ann Coulter is.� I fucking hate Ann Coulter and everything she stands for.
�Mint does taste better than nicotine, after all,� Boss said. �Besides, I think smoking is why my papi is dying of the big C.� Wow. What a bombshell to drop on me all of a sudden. I�m just thinking about how I hate Ann Coulter and in the next moment, I feel terribly sad.
�Your dad has cancer?� I queried.
�Lung cancer,� Boss replied quietly. �I just got the phone call yesterday.�
�Oh, baby, I�m so sorry,� I said. �God, I feel terrible. Is there anything I can do?�
�You can accompany me to Houston after you graduate,� he told me.
�Houston?�
�That�s where I lived before coming here. My mami and papi are still there, but mami can�t take care of papi alone. As for my big sister Maria, I don�t know where she is, but she probably got the same call I did.� Boss sighed. �I�m sorry to be so sudden.�
�No, no, it�s okay! Really. I�ll go with you to Houston if that�s what you want me to do. Besides, I�ve been thinking of a change of scenery anyway. PCB is getting to me.� This rhyme made Boss smile slightly.
�I�ll start looking around on the Internet for somewhere to live in. Mami and papi live in a tiny little apartment. There wouldn�t be enough room for us there.� He sighed again and I put my hand on his shoulder, just to show that I would be there for him.
�Hey,� I whispered. �I got you a ticket for my graduation.�
�You did?� Boss asked, brightening.
�Yes. I�m only allotted four and I used three on the rest of my family, but you got the lucky last one!� I gushed. �The ceremony will be really quick, too, because of how small the class is. Do you want the ticket now?� I went to look for my backpack, where I put my four tickets earlier in the day.
�Sure, why not.� This signal was the sign to open my backpack and dig out one of the four tickets. The tickets were nice, printed on thick cardstock in blue embossed letters with white accents (our school colors) and sporting a huge version of the school logo. I picked one out of my pile of four and gave it to Boss, who looked it over and nodded before carefully putting it in his pocket.
�It�s exciting, you know? I�ll finally be done with school. But at the same time, it�s kind of scary. I�m going to enter the real world, and that�s the only scary part.�
�Don�t be scared. High school is hell compared to the real world. Besides, I�ll help you along. How�s that sound?�
�That sounds great.� I hugged him. He needs it more than ever, what with his dad and everything weighing down on him.
---
�Rajani Amrita Lakshmanan,� our principal called out, hitting every single one of Rajani�s Indian syllables correctly. She let out a little squeal of joy as she rushed to the stage, gracefully received her diploma, and vigorously shook our principal�s hand. Her mom, her aunt (Auntie Kala was her name), her other aunt (Auntie Lila), and her dad were there to clap wildly and snap pictures of her over at the photo corral. Of course, I clapped until my hands tingled. My heartbeat rose to a fever pitch as I realized that I was up next.
�Evangeline Annabelle Lyle,� said the principal, the applause following immediately. I walked briskly, just as I practiced nearly eight thousand times, to the stage, took my diploma, and bowed just slightly as I shook the principal�s hand. I herded myself over to the photo corral, where Mom, Dad, and Boss took multiple shots of me, just in case some of them didn�t come out or something. I held up my diploma in some of them and let it hang at my side in others. I have to admit that, though they were made of some weird material that was slightly uncomfortable, I looked totally hot in my blue robes. When I left the photo corral, I split up from my guests to go back to the student holding area as I heard the next person get called up.
I sat down next to Rajani and we cracked open our diplomas in synch. They were nestled in slick blue leather cases with the school logo and name written in white glittering letters. On the inside was just the normal diploma stuff�conferred on this person on this date, you know how it goes�but it was just so symbolic. This was our ticket to the adult world, and of course we were going to use it. As I sat looking at my diploma and thinking about how it was a ticket, another J-pop song bounced into my head and wouldn�t go away for the rest of the day. When prompted to, I gleefully turned my tassel, feeling a sudden rush of freedom.
It stayed in my head all throughout the reception, where people I barely talked to came up to me and tearfully told me how much they would miss me. Contact info that we both knew would pretty much never be used was exchanged and promises to keep in touch were going for a dime a dozen. I already knew that the most important people�Rajani and Chris�weren�t just going to vanish into thin air when they went on to Miami and New York City, so we didn�t bother with the cheap, empty promises to keep in touch or anything. In fact, we all went back home to change out of our outfits and promised to meet up at Boss� place for a little soiree.
You know that scene in Office Space when Peter, Samir, and Michael get fired from their jobs, but they know they�re going to get the upper hand because of their little money scheme? They�re all in Peter�s little apartment, dancing wildly (Samir break dances). Well, our party was like that. There wasn�t any alcohol involved, because we keep it real like that and because there was iced tea instead, but we were all dancing wildly to music provided courtesy of our iPods. When I got back to Cobalt, I removed the tassel from my hat and placed it on the dashboard rearview mirror, as is tradition. Besides, I have to brag somehow!
After our dance-off party, Rajani invited me back to her place to meet her aunties and receive a gift that she said was in store for me. Intrigued, I bid goodbye (for now) to Boss and Chris and went off in Cobalt, tassel swinging with every turn, sound system turned up loud, singing my fucking lungs out because I was so happy. I think I may have driven over the speed limit, but there weren�t any cops around and I was careful. I stationed Cobalt outside Rajani�s house and went inside.
Inside, Kala and Lila were hanging around, chatting away in what Rajani told me was Tamil language because her family is originally from Chennai. Rajani�s mom, Lalita, was currently in the kitchen cooking something delicious and hopefully not too spicy, while her dad Mohan was outside, having a smoke break and yelling at someone in heavily-accented British English on his cell phone. Rajani always told me that Mohan was some sort of high-powered businessman in London�s East End. Her parents divorced when she was just about to get into kindergarten, which is when she and her mom left London for PCB. That must�ve been one hell of a transition.
�Eva, beta, congratulations, you have graduated!� Lalita called out once she heard me come in. She hustled out of the kitchen, wearing a white apron over a brilliant red and silver sari outfit, wiped her hands on her apron and hugged me. �Oh, I am remembering the very first time I met you now. You were only this tall!� She held her hand up to her hips. �But you took a shining to my Rajani, and I am appreciative of that. I hope you are hungry!� she sang.
�Oh, I am, Ms. Lakshmanan,� I told her, nodding.
�Please, just call me Lalita! I tell you that every time,� Lalita said, making a tsk noise. �Are you vegetarian, beta?�
�No, ma�am.�
�Good, good. I am making some vegetarian dishes and some meat dishes, so you can eat a bit of everything.�
�Eva, Eva!� Lila and Kala called out, rushing over to meet me. Lila and Kala were twins, both wearing royal blue saris with their hair down, but Lila had short hair while Kala had long hair.
�Hi Lila, hi Kala!� I said sweetly.
�Mm, she�s a pretty one, isn�t she?� Lila asked Kala, who nodded in reply. Then Kala said something in Tamil that made Lila smile. I looked slightly uncomfortable, which must have prompted Lila to offer a translation. �Kala wonders if you are having, you know, a man.�
�Oh, um, yes, yes I do,� I replied proudly.
�Krishna! He must be the luckiest man in all Florida,� Kala exclaimed. Lalita went to the kitchen, remarked that the food was done cooking, and started hurriedly placing heaping plates and bowls of all sorts of stuff on the table. She said something in Tamil to Kala and Lila, pointed outside, and Kala nodded before going outside to tell Mohan that it was time to eat. I thought it was admirable that Lalita was allowing Mohan in her house. They were divorced, after all. In any case, he was allowed in and everyone began to take their seats. I sat down next to Rajani, of course.
In the middle of the table was the biggest bowl of all, a huge one full of steamed rice. Tamil cuisine relies heavily on rice, so this is understandable. Another bowl held chicken curry and one next to it had potato curry for the vegetarians. Rasam soup, tinted a bright orange, was nearby. A plate of sevai (rice noodles) garnished with tons of vegetables was still steaming. Finally, there was a plate of mango slices, undoubtedly the dessert, and since I love mangoes I can�t wait to get to them. Lalita served tea (Rajani warned me that it was strong, so I said no thanks), South Indian Coffee (like a cappuccino, Rajani told me), Coke, and water. Of course, I took water. And boy, did I need it! Even though Lalita assured me that this was �mild�, some of it was still pretty hot! By the time I got to the mango slices, I felt so full that I could only take one.
My stomach feeling distended, Lalita sang that she needed to retrieve my present and raced off to the back of the house to get it. Mohan was still eating and Kala and Lila were gabbing away in Tamil, so I felt this was a good time to tell Rajani what was on deck for me.
�Gabe and I are going to move to Houston,� I told her straight up.
�Houston? Why so?� she asked, sipping her tea.
�His dad has cancer,� I replied sadly. �And Gabe wants to, you know, go back and help care for him. I�ve been thinking of a change of scenery, myself.�
�You do what you have to do, beta,� Rajani told me, patting my shoulder. �You might find our gift helpful, then, to your cause.� Lalita returned from the back of the house, carrying a length of green silk that was all wrapped up into a sort of box. She placed it on the table and I immediately began trying to unravel it. I had trouble finding the knot, though, but as soon as I found it, I was able to open the pack and found, sitting before my very eyes, one thousand dollars. Now, I�ve seen a thousand before, but Boss paid that out to me in fifties. Lalita chose twenties, which makes for a bigger pile and also looks less powerful than a fifty when tucked away in a wallet. That�s good because then people won�t want to rob me.
�Oh my God, Ms. Lalita, you didn�t have to do this!� I shrieked. �The typical graduation gift is fifty dollars. You know that, right?�
�Fully aware,� Lalita reassured me. �But you, Eva, you are more than typical, so you deserved a fitting present. You can keep the silk, too. That�s yours.� I decided, for the time being, to use the silk as an elegant envelope for the money, but I would definitely find another use for it later on.
�So,� Rajani said, accosting me as I was about to leave. �Do you know when you�re going to Houston yet?�
�No idea. But I�ll tell you as soon as I know something. And don�t you dare think that I�m just going to disappear, missy, because that is not so.� I frowned slightly. �I mean, there�s e-mail, phone, airplanes��
�I have no doubt that we�ll be able to stay in touch,� Rajani reassured me. �We�re part of the Dream Team, right? The Dream Team doesn�t split up just because of something like college,� she added, waving her hand. �I mean, I�ll miss you, but you won�t be that far away.� She shrugged and smiled. �I can always hop a cheap red-eye flight!�
�That�s the way to think of it,� I said cheerfully. �How can I thank you and your family for this gift?�
�By using it to have fun,� Rajani said while I opened the front door. �See ya later, Eva!�
�Thank you!� I screamed into the house. �See ya, Rajani!� I waved briskly, holding the silky money in my other hand, before turning and skipping off to Cobalt, promising to deposit most of this money as soon as possible.
---
I woke up the next day, unable to believe that I had really graduated until I caught sight of the diploma sitting on my computer desk. Once I saw that, it hit me again like a ton of (very happy) bricks and I did some mad improvised dancing to a song I picked off my iPod. There was lots of thrashing, jumping, and such because this was a rock song. What a shocker, huh? But the singer in question is a woman, so it�s all good.
�Hey, freak,� Mike said, coming into my room just after the first bridge. �Mom and Dad have something for you upstairs.� In one fluid motion, I paused my iPod and followed Mike upstairs. Mom and Dad were, indeed, hovering around something on the dining room table, guarding it like they were Secret Service or something.
�Morning, honey!� Mom sang.
�What�re you guarding?� I asked immediately.
�Your graduation present,� Dad answered.
�Can I see it?� I inquired, grinning.
�Ta-da!� Mom and Dad sang in unison, moving aside like ultra-coordinated Broadway dancers to reveal�
�Oh my GOD! A new digital camera?!� I gasped, breathless, as I ran over and inspected the box. It was, indeed, a digital camera�a Canon PowerShot S80. This shit is the top of the line right here as far as compact digital cameras go for Canon. It has EIGHT megapixels!! EIGHT! My last camera had 3.2!
�We figured that, no matter where you go, you�ll always want to take pictures,� Mom explained.
�And maybe share them with us?� Dad asked.
�Definitely!� I exclaimed, my hands shaking with delight.
�Is your other camera still working?� Mom queried.
�Like a dream,� I said reassuringly.
�Well, Mike, now it�s yours,� she told Mike, who gasped.
�Are you serious?� he asked.
�I�m serious,� Mom said. �Eva, why don�t you go downstairs and get your old camera?�
�You�ll need a memory card, Mike,� I said with caution.
�Oh, actually, we already got him one,� Dad said, producing a blue SD memory card from his pocket. I nodded and rushed downstairs, retrieved my old camera, then emptied it of its memory card and rechargeable batteries before handing it over to Mike.
�Take good care of this camera and it will surprise you,� I told him. �Speaking of surprises, how about another surprise for you guys? Surprise, I�m probably going to move out to Houston!�
�Houston? My roommate was from Houston!� Dad immediately exclaimed.
�Houston? Why so, honey?� Mom wondered.
�Gabe�s dad. He has cancer and his wife can�t really take care of him, so Gabe wants to go out and do his duty. I figured that, because of the circumstances, he needs someone who can keep him happy. And I just so happen to fit the bill!� I pointed to my nose.
�Houston�s a great city, honey. You�ll love it there,� Dad said with a big smile, patting my shoulder. �There�s a lot to take pictures of.�
�Do you know when you�re moving?� Mom asked, switching to realtor mode.
�No idea,� I said apologetically. �Gabe just said he�s going to start looking for apartments or whatever a few days ago.�
�Do you want me to help you out in finding a place?� Mom offered.
�You could be a good advisor. You know, tell us what those silly euphemisms people use really mean and stuff.� I smiled. �Sure, you can help us out, but only to a certain extent, okay? Don�t make all the big decisions for us.�
�I won�t, honey. I know when to back off and let the buyers just do their thing. Trust me.� Mom smiled brightly. �But I still want to help.� I nodded and opened the box for my new camera.
�Oh, it�s so cool,� I remarked in awe. It was a tiny little thing, black with silver accents, and yes, there was an 8 megapixel screen on the back. I placed my batteries and memory card inside my new camera and turned it on. The quality of the 8 megapixel screen was ridiculously awesome. I know I�m going to get a lot of use out of this.
---
�Yes, it is really 8 megapixels,� I told Boss later on.
�I have to see it soon,� he insisted. �I don�t believe you.�
�Aw, c�mon, it�s the truth. Go to your computer and look up PowerShot S80 if you really don�t believe me.�
�Actually, I�m on my computer right now because I just found the most awesome place ever in Houston.�
�Really? Is it in our price range?� I don�t even know our price range! I did tell him about the $1000 from Rajani�s family and he seemed impressed, though.
�It is,� he replied. �In fact�ah, you need to see it for yourself. Are you near a computer?�
�I am.� I was sitting in my computer chair, looking at my camera.
�OK. Go on the Internet, of course, and type this string into Google or whatever search engine you please.� Lucky for me, Google was my homepage.
�OK.�
�Lone Star Lofts. Did you get that?�
�Lone Star Lofts,� I repeated, typing the name in with just one finger. When I�m on the phone and computer at the same time, my ability to type suffers greatly. �OK, I�m at the site now.� They had a very slick, professional-looking design.
�Now look for the menu bar on the left there. See where it says Models? Click on it.� I did so.
�Which model am I looking at, cowboy?� I asked, as there were many to choose from.
�I was thinking of the 2/2 so you can get away from me sometimes.�
�Not that I want to,� I commented, clicking on the selection marked 2/2. There was a plethora of pictures, all of which I perused. �I like it, too. One of my favorite features about lofts is how open they are. You never feel constricted, which is good because I�m claustrophobic�� My eyes lingered over the price. �The price is nice.�
�What do you think? Do you think I should e-mail them?�
�I think you should. Tell them that we�re very interested and eager to move in. Mom says that sellers really like when buyers seem like they�d drop everything just to move in. Especially when money gets involved.�
�No problem.� I heard Boss start to type something.
�When do you think we would be moving? Should I start packing stuff up?� I wondered aloud.
�It wouldn�t hurt, I guess. Maybe just weed out the stuff you like and throw out the stuff you don�t.� I glared at my closet, thinking that was probably a good idea but dreading the very action, until an idea flashed through my brain�why not have the rest of the Dream Team help me out?
�I�ll let you go so you can type the e-mail all professionally. Plus, I just had a great idea about how to pack up stuff. I�ll talk to you later, honey.� Boss hung up, so I hurriedly dialed Rajani. �Raj!� I exclaimed as soon as she picked up. �I have an awesome idea. Since I�m moving soon, I want to decide what I should take, keep here in PCB, and trash. Would you like to help?�
�Only if there�s the possibility of free clothes involved,� Rajani told me.
�But of course!� I exclaimed. �I�ll call Chris, too. We can have a Dream Team Closet Cleaning Extravaganza. How�s that sound?�
�It sounds excellent, my friend. I�ll be over ASAP.� Rajani hung up, so I called Chris and told him the exact same thing. He asked me the exact same thing, even though I think he�s a size smaller than I am. I really need to watch what I�m eating. I went upstairs to wait for the Dream Team�s arrivals and to flip through the newspaper. In classic Dream Team fashion, they both came over within a minute or two of each other. I snatched up a trash bag from inside the kitchen and led them downstairs while telling them my game plan.
�Here�s the game plan. There will be three piles�one for things I should take to Houston with me��
�You�re moving to Houston?!� Chris shrieked.
�Oh! Chris! Honey, don�t freak out. It�s Gabe. His dad lives there and he has cancer, so Gabe wants to go help him out or whatever and needs me to go with him as moral support. We�ve found the cutest loft ever; I really hope we get it�� I started explaining.
�But still. Houston? As in Houston, Texas?�
�Unless there�s another Houston that I�m unaware of, yes.�
�Honey, that is like Republican headquarters! Your vote won�t even count over there unless you go to the dark side!�
�Then I won�t register to vote yet.� I shrugged. �I never really considered that, you know? I mean, there were bigger fish to fry�� I pushed open the door to my room and Tommy greeted the Dream Team. �Unfortunately, Tommy has to stay here, but she can be something to look forward to when I visit home!�
�That�s the way to look at it, Eva,� Rajani said approvingly.
�Okay, three piles. If I should take it to Houston, put it on my bed. If I should leave it here, leave it in the closet. If I should throw it away, put it in the plastic bag. Alternately, if you want to keep any of it, it�s yours to take.� I suddenly remembered my special purse, sitting in the back of my closet, so I dove inside and put it on my bed. �I like that purse,� I said, trying not to sound nervous.
�OK! Let�s get started!� Chris said, clapping his hands. With two other people to help me out�and offer opinions on items I was iffy about�the cleaning job went by a lot faster than I thought. I filled up one trash bag with stuff to give away to charity, so I had to retrieve another one, and that one was full too when we were done. I already knew I would be taking my bed, computer, desk, TV, PlayStation 2, books, bookshelves, and Lalita�s painting, but there were things like boxes full of old stuff to sort through. By �old stuff� I mostly mean school projects and assignments, though there were the occasional personal notebooks that the Dream Team had.
Personal notebooks became the thing for us in fourth grade and enjoyed a good degree of popularity until seventh grade, when we moved to the Upper School and had to change classes, whereas in the Lower School we stayed in the same classes except for specialty classes like art, science, and music. The contents of a personal notebook varied wildly. Usually on the cover were stickers and sayings that we liked. On the inside would be pages of funny quotes and their sources. We recited these at each other until we were laughing so hard that we cried and our sides hurt. There might also be other things, too, like drawings, rants, or notes passed during boring classes, but the quotes were the big-ticket item. Let me tell you: some of these quotes were still funny, six school years later. Due to the historical content of these notebooks, I decided to keep them here in PCB.
�We�re going to start collecting boxes for you,� Rajani offered.
�I think I have a lot in my basement,� Chris added. �Because of my mom�s sewing supplies and stuff, you know.�
�You two are too good to me. You�re, quite literally, the best friends I could ever have asked for.� I started to cry.
�Aw, beta, that�s so sweet,� Rajani said in a shaky voice before she started to cry too.
�Goddamn it, I�m going to cry too,� Chris wailed, shedding tears.
�We�re all crying like waterfalls,� I commented. �Truly close.� I sniffled. �I love you both. I�m for real. There�s a very small circle of people I love�Mom, Dad, even Mike, you guys, Gabe�that�s about it, and you two are in there.� I sniffled again. �Please, I don�t ever want to grow apart from you two.�
�I won�t let that happen,� Rajani told me.
�I�ll go straight before I let that happen. And I don�t mean with Uma Thurman, either,� Chris told me.
While the Dream Team busied themselves trying on the various clothes they salvaged from my closet, Boss called.
�Bueno?� I asked.
�We got it!� he said gleefully.
�Are you serious?� I barked into the phone.
�Like a heart attack. How does moving on June 11 sound?� I consulted my calendar, which told me it was May 21.
�June 11?� By this time, the Dream Team took interest in my conversation. �It sounds good to me. Do you need any help packing up?�
�I might. I�ll call you if I do.�
�Okay. So, we have it? That loft is definitely ours?�
�Well, if you want to jointly own it, you�ll need to sign the papers, too. Do you want to do that?�
�I don�t know. I�m not really getting that much money.� I wanted to say �except from you,� but didn�t want to hear any allegations of sugar daddy or anything.
�If need be, you can add yourself on later.�
�Cool.�
�The agent is going to fax the papers over soon, so I�ll sign them and we�ll have the place.�
�This is great, Gabe. I�m really excited, but kind of scared. You know, leaving home and all.�
�I�ll make it a good transition for you, I promise.�
�I love you.�
�I love you too, Eva. Talk to you later.� I shut my phone and put it back on my desk, whirling around to face the Dream Team. Chris was currently fitting perfectly into a pair of pants that I had to put aside in ninth grade while Rajani fiddled with the buttons on a shirt that I had to put aside when my, er, chestability made gaps appear between the buttons.
�Guys, we got it! Gabe said that he has to sign some papers, but as soon as they�re signed, we pretty much have the place.� I gushed while telling this information to my best friends in the whole world.
�Can we see it?� Rajani immediately asked.
�Of course.� I directed them to the Lone Star Lofts page, where they proceeded to ooh and ahh at the place I would soon be living in.
(Epilogue)
On moving day, everyone I love was there to help. Mom talked with Boss about the real estate aspect of the situation, asking him how much he was going to pay in rent, how big it was, did it have a good view, et cetera. Dad would occasionally chime in with places we should go to while in Houston. Mike moved boxes, as did Chris and Rajani. When it came time to move the bed, Boss and I did it together, though I�m pretty sure he did about 75% of the lifting and I only did 25%. To save money, we both decided to just rent U-Haul trucks, which we would then return to the hub in Houston. Cobalt was already hitched up to my truck, which already had my iPod plugged into the cassette deck via a middleman tool of some sort.
First, I bid goodbye (for now) to Tommy, who Mom promised to look after. I took a goodbye (for now) look at my room and remembered how long it took to take it from a dark, dank place into a warm, loving room. I went upstairs, said goodbye (for now) to the house, and went back out front to my truck, where everyone I love was waiting in a row, like subjects waiting to be received whenever the Queen of England comes out of the palace.
�Chris,� I said to Chris, already crying and smudging my mascara, I�m sure. �I love you, Chris, you know that. I promise not to let the Republicans get to me, but only if you promise to keep in touch.�
�Cross my heart, swear to die, stick a needle through my eye,� Chris replied, kissing each of my cheeks like a European would.
�Rajani, my longest-lasting friend. You have to keep in touch; it is required of you.�
�Why wouldn�t I?� a crying Rajani responded, hugging me tightly.
�Mike, Mike, Mike. Enjoy your new camera. I can�t wait to see the pictures you�ll take with it.� I playfully ruffled his hair and hugged him. �Dad, I�ll visit everywhere in Houston and take tons of pictures. I�m going to make you proud.� He smiled, nodding away his own tears, as he hugged me tightly. �Mom, I�m going to be the best daughter you ever wanted. I�ll live my life to the fullest and have so much fun with all of it. This I promise.� I hugged her, perhaps tightest of all, as she cried openly. �I promise to keep in touch as well. My contact info will remain the same. If it changes, I will tell you.� I opened the driver�s door to my truck and put one foot on the platform that is only there to help short people like me get in. I hoisted another foot in and grabbed the door handle to balance out. �I love you! All of you! And don�t you ever forget that!� With that, I shut the door, started the ignition, and drove off.
It might sound cheesy, but I chose a song that I thought would be especially appropriate to listen to while driving out to Houston. (Of course, I chose other songs, too, but this one was most appropriate.) It�s a song by one of my absolute favorite singers, Ayumi Hamasaki. It�s called Voyage and the translation goes a little something like this.
We travel this road to find happiness.
See? You look good with a smile on your face.
These beautiful, fragile days are reborn, unfaded.
In the season of dazzling burned seas
and in the season of dancing snowflakes
whenever I turned around, you were there.
We travel this road to find happiness.
Everyone is a traveler, carrying his own never-healing wounds.
See? You look good with a smile on your face.
How many times have I gotten lost?
Every time, the one who extended his
warm helping hand was you.
At the end of this long path, what will we think?
Everyone is a traveler, wandering about in search of love.
Let's go together until we tire of it.
At the end of this long path, what will we think?
Everyone is a traveler, wandering about in search of love.
Let's go together until we tire of it.
Just listening to the song, let alone singing along to it, makes me cry nearly every time, but this time I cried more. I simply dabbed away my tears at stop lights, allowing them to fall while driving, signaling my intentions to get onto I-10, to drive on, to drive towards my future.
Let�s go together until we tire of it.
To be continued in Enchantment
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